The second installment of seing my life through the eyes of my over-the-top college art history professor. (For the first in the series, click here.) Please read with a pseudo-English accent.
“The younger member of the artistic duo, ‘Duo’ (American, b. 2006) continues his work in kinetic media with an ongoing, semi-weekly installation. The piece may be viewed by some as a preschool homage to Marcel Duchamp’s “Fountain.” 
But in fact, the focus of the artist’s inquiry is slowing–if not completely arresting–the pull of gravity itself. Eschewing the banal ebb and flow of our lives’ daily waste, he forces a pause upon human production–and upon us, the producers, who approach the installation innocently, seeking urgent relief. Relief, however, is one thing we shall not find. For in an ironic reversal, the porcelain receptacle can no longer banish solids because the artist has eliminated the void. The bowl’s void. Where once a pregnant, empty space hovered between our gluteus maximus and the cool rush of water, a cushiony cloud of papyrus Charmin-icus now awaits our descending derrieres. Not miserly, individual squares of paper stacked in neat towers, but great gossamer swags, looped back and forth, perforations defiantly intact, bespeaking the artist’s great sweeping gestures, his haste, and his delight.
We, the viewers, ponder our next move. Our eyes dart to the wall-mounted toilet paper dispenser. Yes, we realize, the entirety of its great, barrel-like girth is gone. Gone and yet here, with us. Freed, transformed, voluminous. At clashing odds with the paper’s bountiful repose is the bursting limit of our own bodily vessel. The artist gives us a mere split-second to decide our fate. Here we become one with the artwork, for our choice determines the fate of the piece as well. Do we choose the fear of small pipe diameters, and hurriedly remove the dank, dubious paper, fist over fist? Or do we lower our trunks in faith, releasing our golden ropes of urine to the artist’s absorbent, T.P. flotilla? No one stands in judgment of our decision. Most especially not the artist, who treasures freedom of expression above all other virtues. Having done his duty, he has moved on. To the next room. To his next subject. To be determined.”
Postscript 1/19/10:
This just in from a Coconut Girl who lives in a parallel universe in New England. Her artist was picking up on the theme of silver bath fixtures.
“a cushiony cloud of papyrus Charmin-icus”
That just about killed me.